Right Where You Are
by InMyFreeTime
Summary: With Gibbs' memory near non-existant, it takes something serious to knock some sense back in him. HurtTony/GibbsComfort


**Right Where You Are**

 **Father/Son. AU. Post Hiatus. Hurt/Comfort. Family.**

 **Disclaimer: I have no rights and do not own any NCIS characters in this story. The story line did come from my brain, though.**

* * *

The beautiful woman was talking to him, he knew it. Her lips were moving and she was looking at him but all he could hear was an incessant beeping. Almost like a car alarm, but louder and closer to his ears. 'Shut up! I really don't want to miss the invite to this woman's BED!' Lost deep in confusion, Tony couldn't decide whether to be turned on or pissed off when the woman suddenly lifted her hand and slapped him across the face. 'What the-?' Tony's eyes flew open and he gave a groan as he came to the realization that he was laying in an empty bed….again. And the incredibly annoying beeping was coming from the alarm clock Gibbs had gotten him for his birthday so he would 'never be late'….again.

Tony trudged his way to the bathroom and got in the shower. He stood under the hot water until his skin was a rosy pink and warm to the touch. Ignoring the building headache, he quickly got dressed and headed for his car, already dreading the long day and praying for no additional pressing cases.

Since Gibbs had run off to God-knows-where in Mexico, Tony had been busting ass trying to run the team. Sure, he was getting praise on how well he was doing, but those people were simply the audience watching the show. Only he knew what was going on backstage….and it wasn't pretty. Tony was there every morning at six am and stayed until midnight or later most nights. He had to admit, it was taking a serious toll on his body.

As he stepped out into the dark, chilly morning, Tony gave a slight shiver and climbed into his car, frowning as he did so. The entire car was covered in a layer of light-colored dirt that had, no doubt, been building for a few weeks. Had he really been too busy to run his precious car through the car wash just once? Well, maybe he'd do that on his lunch break…if he took one.

Driving the dull, familiar route to work, Tony's mind was attempting to put all the pieces of their current case together. He hoped his team would be able to come up with something helpful today. Accelerating through the intersection, Tony barely had time to realize that the car coming fairly quickly up on his left side was not slowing down. He had even less time to register the excruciating pain that enveloped him as their cars collided.

* * *

"So….what should we do?"

"Oh calm down McGee. I'm sure Tony has simply overslept after spending a long night with some blonde….whatever it is that you call them," Ziva threw out, grasping for something at least the slight bit plausible. However, she did have to admit…she was worried. It was very unlike Tony, as of late, to not be at work on time. In fact, he was usually the first one there.

"Bimbo."

"What?"

"Bimbo, Ziva. That's what we call Tony's girls."

Ziva simply gave a nod in return and went back to worrying. Maybe she should go visit Abby. She always seemed to know everything about Tony.

* * *

"Come on! You can do this! Just a little farther…you're doing so good!"

"ABBY!"

Whirling around to chew Tony out for one, turning off her music, and two, screaming so loud, she stopped short when she was met with the face of Ziva, not Tony. She was undoubtedly surprised to see Ziva, however she had absolutely no reason to be…except for the fact that neither she nor McGee came to collect much evidence from her as of late. Usually it was the currently absent Tony….

"Ziva! What can I do for you?" Abby asked pleasantly.

"I was wondering if you had heard from Tony today?"

"Umm…no actually. Although I really need to talk to him because Lieutenant Perry's shoes revealed some very interesti-"

"Abby," Ziva interrupted kindly, "Tony isn't here. I came to see if you knew of anywhere else he would be. I'm…well I'm worried," Ziva finished awkwardly.

"Oh. This is not good. Okay well let me-" Abby was once again interrupted, but this time from Ziva's cell phone that began ringing. The women shared a hopeful look as Ziva flipped it open. However she was not able to offer a greeting as the voice on the other end burst through quickly and loudly. Suddenly the voice stopped and there was a distinct 'click' from the other side. Ziva schooled her features and turned toward Abby's questioning gaze.

"That was McGee. He received a phone call from Bethesda. Tony is in the hospital…there was a crash," Ziva's heart was fluttering too fast. 'Not again. Not Tony too.' Abby began flying frantically around her lab, grabbing everything she would need as Ziva stood stoic, not moving a single inch.

"ZIVA! Let's GO." Abby's voice pulled her out of her musings and she was running. They met McGee in the garage and Ziva shoved him out of the way, throwing herself into the driver's seat and speeding off, barely waiting for the others to shut their doors.

"McGee…Ducky! We have to tell Ducky!" Abby shouted sounding flustered.

"He's already on his way. I called him first," McGee glanced toward Abby in the back seat, taking in the black tear streaks on her cheeks, "He's going to be fine, Abs. He's strong, you know that."

Even as he said the words, Tim was praying they were true. Tony _had_ to be okay. He couldn't help thinking what a mess they were right now, with their two leaders not present. Tim leaned his head on the window, watching DC fly by, hoping that he wouldn't be promoted anytime soon.

* * *

Ducky met them at the entrance, his face a mixture of worry and confusion. Abby anxiously inquired about their friend and was met with a very uncharacteristic stutter, "Well my dear, I-it is not good."

Three shocked faces met the statement and a lone question was asked cautiously by a subdued McGee, "Duck, is he alive?"

"Yes, he is very much alive. Very much," Ducky managed seeming to drift off in memory.

By this point, Ziva was well and frustrated, "Ducky I do not understand. What are you not telling us?"

"There is a problem regarding his treatment…"

"Do we need to call his next of kin? Ohmygoodness I don't have Gibbs' number! Ducky what are we going to do?" Abby was pacing and throwing her hands in the air, to which Ducky calmed with his own.

"Abigail, that is not the worry. Anthony has removed Jethro as his next of kin since his departure, leaving me with any medical decisions. The trouble is, Anthony has become severely agitated and though he has clear signs of injury, the doctors cannot treat him in fear of having a bullet put between their eyes."

"He has them at gun point?" McGee couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Well did you try talking to him Duck? Surely one of us could calm him down?"

"And that, Ziva, is the other problem. Anthony has apparently hit his head quite hard. He remembers nothing. Not even his own name. And especially not any of ours."

"Oh my god…Ducky can't they do anything?"

"There is only one solution, it seems. Anthony only calls out two words, 'No!' and…'Gibbs'."

"Well get him here! What are we waiting for? You _have_ called him, right Duck?"

"That is the other problem," Ducky paused, shaking his head. He knew the wary team was wondering where the problems ended, and he hated to tell them the next one, "Jethro left a contact number with no one, not even the Director."

* * *

All he could see were blurs of white, and all he could hear was the hammering of his heart in his chest. The gun in his hand was growing heavier by the second. 'Gun? Why am I holding a gun? Do I even know how to hold a gun?' Apparently he did because every time the white blurs got close, he shook the gun at them and they backed off momentarily. The gun he had found earlier, nestled by his ankle, and for some reason as soon as he was aware enough, he had pulled it out in order to defend himself. His head was pounding, driving away any other pain he was feeling. He was vaguely aware of the mumbling he was doing, and strangely, couldn't bring himself to stop the repeating words, "No. Gibbs! Gibbs! NO!"

The white blurs hadn't moved in a while and the pain in his head was growing at a rate he was sure he shouldn't be comfortable with. Easing himself down to a horizontal position, the pain became too intense to handle. His hand wavered and dropped as he fell into blackness.

* * *

The door to their left flew open as a young man stuck his head out, "Dr. Mallard! I was told to inform you that we will be treating Agent Dinozzo now. He fell unconscious."

"Very well, thank you," Ducky replied as he threw a glance toward the team, promising updates as soon as he could. Entering the ER room that housed his dear friend, Ducky gave a weary sigh at the sight of Tony. His hair was matted with blood, his left leg lying at an unnatural angle. Raspy, unsteady breaths were being forced through swollen, bloodied lips. As the doctors worked quickly to straighten out his broken body, Ducky took a moment to breathe. He and Tony had grown close the past few months. Tony would tell him how easy it was being a team leader and Ducky would tell him he was full of a crock of shit. Feeling slightly guilty, not for the first time, Ducky looked hard at his friend. Beneath the blood-stained face were deep, dark circles that spoke of countless sleepless nights. His body was slim, much too slim for his liking. On the verge of unhealthy even.

"Dr. Mallard?"

Ducky started at the young woman standing before him, wondering how long she had been there.

"Dr. Mallard, Agent DiNozzo is stable. We need to take x-rays and you need to step out of the room."

Thrown slightly by her directness, he replied quickly, "Yes, yes, of course. If you would, please let me know when you are finished." The woman nodded and Ducky headed toward the door. He exited quietly and headed to find the rest of Tony's team.

* * *

Abby had done the only intelligent thing she could think of at the moment…she locked herself in the bathroom, planted her hands on either side of the sink and stared deep into her own eyes. Squinting slightly, she tried to make her blurry image form into a Gibbs-shaped one.

"Come on…think like Gibbs. Where in Mexico would you be if you were Leroy Jethro Gibbs?" she muttered to herself, " _Why_ would you be in Mexico if you were Leroy Jethro Gibbs?"

Throwing her hands to her head in frustration, Abby groaned loudly. Why did this have to be happening now? Dragging her hands down her face, she gave a slight yelp as her bracelet caught her cheek wrong. Glaring at the guilty piece of jewelry, she gave a mental growl, for no apparent reason, at the person who had given her that bracelet…a certain person she hadn't seen in quite some time…a person who had known Gibbs longer than anyone here. Her heart fluttered as she realized that this was probably the only chance they had at getting Tony what he needed to heal. She flipped open her phone and flew through her contact list, pressing the name to call as quickly as she could. Waiting on the rings, she prayed that Mike Franks would answer his phone.

* * *

Mike Franks gave a grumble and shoved his ringing phone aside. He was in no mood to talk to anyone today. Damn that Jethro had done pissed him off good. Glancing nonchalantly at the phone out of curiosity, he saw a familiar name lighting up the screen. Aw hell, at least she was nice.

"'Ello?"

"I need to find Gibbs, like now!" came the frantic voice on the other end.

"Well hello to you too, little missy. Now how about you show some manners, say hello back, and then we'll talk," Mike all but laughed into the phone.

"Is he there? Is he with you? Do not lie to me right now, mister. This is _important._ "

"Abby,I hate to tell you this, but me and the Probie, we ain't on the best of terms right now. Yesterday he really just pissed me the f-"

"PuthimonthephonerightnoworIswearIwillkillyouandIwon'tevenleaveasingleshredofevidenceandyouknowit."

"Woah now," Mike paused to look at his phone in confusion, "I'll see what I can do for ya."

A sigh of relief came from the other end as Mike made his way out of the house to the beach, intent to find the man. Spotting him a bit down the beach, he placed the phone against his chest and gave a loud holler, "PROBIE! PHONE FOR YOU!"

Farther down the beach Gibbs let out a sigh, he really did not want to talk to anyone but the small, peaceful waves lapping at his feet. Heaving a small grunt, he reached down and picked up a smooth, flat stone, raised it back and Frisbee-d it into the ocean. Taking a swig of his beer he settled back down into the chair, turning his face to the sun, effectively ignoring a certain Mike Franks. Back near the house, Mike shuffled in impatience and hollered again, "PROBIE! IT'S ABBY. GET YOUR ASS UP HERE NOW!"

Blinking in surprise, Gibbs shouted back, "How'd she get my number, Mike?" His tone was slightly accusing, to which Franks rolled his eyes and informed him with finger and vocals, "It wasn't your phone fu-"

"ALRIGHT! Hang on," Gibbs muttered as he made his way up to the house, snatching the phone out of Mike's hand, "Abbs, I'm very sorry I left, but I'm not coming back. I'm sure the team is managing just fine so-"

"Gibbs, with all due respect, shut the hell up. I'm not calling for me. I'm calling because Tony, who has been working himself sick to make up for your stupid shit, was in a crash this morning and he doesn't remember anything. Not his name, not his job, not his team. But for some reason, and God knows why, the only thing he remembers is YOU. Why? I have no idea, but you need to get off your ass and get here. Now. Tony was the BEST when you were hurt and you didn't even want his support. Now he's hurt and you're the only one he wants. So put down your beer, get off your ass, and get yourself a plane ticket or I will come get you myself! _Please,_ " the rant ended in a desperate plea.

The click of the phone hanging up on the other line shook Gibbs out of his stunned silence. Taking a moment to process everything in his head, he closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest. How could he have been so stupid? Tony _had_ been there for him. Everyday. Even when he threw his coffee at him and screamed for him to leave him alone. And then Gibbs had just walked out. 'You'll do.' What was he thinking? That was his team. That was his family. That was his _son._ Blinking back tears, Gibbs straightened his shoulders and breathed deep. Tony needed him, Tony wanted him. Tony would get him.

* * *

"Abigail, there you are, I've been looking all over for you. Please, join us in the waiting room," Ducky gently ushered the sniffling woman into the room that housed the rest of the team, Jimmy Palmer now present, his brow creased with worry. As close as Tony and Ducky had become over the past few months, he knew Tony and Jimmy had become even closer and he was definitely not about to send the young lad back to work now.

"How is he, Duck?" McGee inquired immediately.

"I was sent out of the room as they were about to get x-rays. I do say though, he looked fairly beat up. Now, as you all know, Anthony is strong and I'm certain his physical wounds will heal nicely considering there is nothing more serious beneath the surface. However, I am worried about his state of mind, especially with Jethro being so far away and out of reach. And, unfortunately, not willing to make any more effort toward this team," Ducky gave a frustrated throat-clear and continued, "The most important thing will be to be very patient with him, do not intrude on his privacy, and be there to help him heal. I am going to call in my very good friend who is the best Neurologist I know, so I can promise you, Anthony will be getting the best care possible. Timothy, I assume you've talked to the director?"

"Y-yes, she has assigned our case to another team and has deemed us inactive for the time being…a-and put me in charge," McGee mumbled the last part, his ears coloring slightly.

"Well yes, Timothy, and I believe you will fulfill the position to the best of your ability," Ducky spoke gently and gave a small smile to the new, and hopefully temporary, team leader.

"Dr. Mallard? We have finished the x-rays, you are free to join us if you'd like."

"Yes, thank you."

Ducky began walking toward the ER entrance, when he was stopped by a very quiet voice and the clearing of a throat.

"Um, Ducky? I have to tell you something," Abby paused as Ducky looked at her expectantly, and slightly impatiently, "I sort of…called Mike Franks. Who is sort of…with Gibbs. And I sort of…told Gibbs to get here. Now. "

Ducky's eyes widened the slightest, as did the rest of the team's standing behind Abby, but he was the first to speak, "What, then, did Gibbs say, my dear?"

"I didn't really exactly give him a chance to talk, but I think he got the point."

Ducky merely smiled and patted Abby on the cheek before walking through the doors to Tony.

* * *

Things were moving at high speed in Tony's room, but at a snail's pace in the small waiting room outside. McGee sat with his head in his hands, trying to tame his nervous, bouncing leg. He was seriously wishing he would have given Tony more of his time and attention over these past few months. Even taking him to lunch or inviting him out for a drink after work would have been better than nothing. Then maybe they could have talked. And maybe Tony would have told him how affected he had been by Gibbs' departure. Sure, Tim was sad to see Gibbs go, but he was well past it by now and figured Tony would be too. Tony had removed him as his next of kin. That means things were worse than any of them could comprehend.

Sighing, Tim glanced to his left at Abby who was curled up in a chair with her eyes closed, though he knew she wasn't sleeping. Placing a hand on her knee, she glanced at him and he gave her a sad smile, hoping to convey his support. Tim was secretly very proud of Abby for handling the whole Gibbs situation how she did. Someday he'd tell her that. Someday he'd tell her more than that.

A door opened after an undetermined amount of time and a solemn Dr. Mallard exited. The group rose expectantly and Ducky gave them a smile.

"Well, Anthony is stabilized and resting comfortably. They were able to surgically repair his left leg, as well as set his three cracked ribs, stitch up the multiple lacerations on his face and arms, and tend to his severe concussion," Ducky paused, glancing around at the concerned faces, not being able to help thinking that the one who should be most concerned was not present.

* * *

Hearing Abby's accusing voice give him the news so bluntly was almost unbearable. Flying over two thousand miles, without being able to do a thing, _was_ unbearable. Gibbs wanted to die. Wallowing in guilt, he couldn't get pictures of Tony out of his head. Bloodied and broken, swollen and bruised. All the possible images assaulted his mind.

Gibbs closed his eyes and tried to let other memories of Tony enter his thoughts. He saw Tony on his first day at NCIS, his brand new, polished shoes ruined after a foot chase through the woods. He heard Tony's boisterous voice as he sauntered out of a bar after a well-deserved night with his friends. He saw Tony proudly receive his diploma from Ohio State, smiling brightly toward the camera. He heard smooth jazz music being blared from the room above the kitchen. He saw wrapping paper being thrown every which way as Tony and Kelly dove through their presents on Christmas morning, Shannon nestled into his side.

He gave a soft smile as he remembered seeing that little boy for the first time. That beautiful little boy with bruises on his face and a cast on his arm, staring intently at his shoes, as quiet as a mouse. And he saw the brilliant green eyes that shone bright with hope as Gibbs knelt down, lifted his little chin, and told him that he would be his new daddy and everything would be alright. Gibbs felt a hot tear slide down his face as he recalled the way Tony had leapt into his arms, little body shaking like a leaf, and sobbing out two words over and over again, "Thank you."

* * *

"We are going to keep him in a medically induced coma to let his body heal as much as possible. I was informed by Dr. Mallard that Mr. Gibbs would be joining us soon, and I feel it is best if we wait until he arrives to lift Tony from the coma and assess his mental state. Until we wake him, Tony will be allowed one visitor at a time during the allotted visiting hours only. Are there any questions you have for me?" Dr. Welding scanned the strange gathering of individuals in the ICU waiting room, aware that this was going to be a tough case.

"I believe that is all for now, Dr. Welding, thank you very much," Ducky nodded to the doctor and took a seat in the waiting room, looking pointedly at Abby, "I believe that Anthony would love to hear your voice, Abigail. Why don't you go speak to him for a bit?"

Abby nodded solemnly and headed toward his room, knowing that this may be the only chance she would get to see him for a while. Once he woke up, there was no telling who he would or wouldn't want to see. What she did know, however, was that Gibbs better get here soon if he wanted to keep all his body parts.

* * *

As soon as the plane landed Gibbs was running out of the airport doors and calling for a taxi. He hadn't even bothered to pack anything, really. His carry-on was stuffed with a few essentials, but that was the last thing on his mind. Finally reeling in a taxi, he hurriedly gave him his destination with the instructions to "Step on it". Traffic was miserable and, more than once, Gibbs had considered running the remaining distance. Once he arrived at the hospital, Gibbs threw a wad of cash at the driver and raced into the building yelling for Tony's room number before he was even to the front desk. Taking the stairs two at a time, Gibbs said a prayer as he sped toward his abandoned son, wishing he could take back every selfish thing he had ever done that had hurt his child.

* * *

Ziva ran a shaking hand through her knotted hair, silently cursing her body's reaction. No one knew what Tony meant to her, and if they did, no one showed it. Tony most definitely did not know what he meant to her. And now, not only had she waited too long to tell him, but he didn't even remember who she was. Years of building the foundation of what could be an incredible relationship were gone in the blink of an eye. She thrust herself from the chair with the sudden urge for immediate revenge. She would find whoever did this to Tony and she would make them wish they were never born.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the door to the waiting room being thrown open and a deep voice bellowing out, "Where is he?" Ziva watched as Abby sent a glare in Gibbs' direction and pointed a shaking finger toward the door that held Tony. Throwing down his bag and sparing them little more than a glance, Gibbs flew through the double doors to come face to face with Ducky.

"Duck, where is he? Is he okay?"

"Nice to see you too, Jethro. I am pleased to see that you took a break from your travels to join us, however, I do wish the circumstances were different."

"Duck. Tell me."

"He's stable and in a medically induced coma at the moment. The doctor believed it was in his best interest," Ducky seemed to struggle with how to say his next words, "Jethro the boy was-he was terrified. Why on earth would he remember nothing but you? Why? You haven't even been present his whole life. How could the years he has been with NCIS ensured such a child-like trust in you? I do not understand it."

Ducky drew a deep breath, attempting to contain his anger toward his previously absent friend.

"Please Duck, I'll explain everything, just let me see him. Please," Gibbs was ready to get on his knees, anticipating Ducky's confusion, "I know I have been terrible to him, to all of you, and I know 'sorry' doesn't cut it. Just let me see him, Duck, I just want to see my boy."

The medical examiner's eyes widened ever so slightly at the possible revelation that had just been brought before him and turned to point to the room next to him. Watching as Gibbs hurried in, Ducky took a moment to run a hand through his hair and gather himself. And here he had thought he'd seen just about everything. Ducky turned and walked down the hall to find the doctor, leaving the two men alone.

Gibbs hurried in the door to Tony's room and swallowed the lump in his throat at the sight that met him. Tony's head was swathed in a large white bandage, his bare torso also covered with bandages, his leg in a cast and suspended in the air. Cuts and bruises marred his handsome face and chest. A chest that seemed too thin to be his Tony. Why had he lost so much weight? Stepping gingerly toward the bed, so as not to disturb him, Gibbs grasped Tony's warm, limp hand in his own and let a single tear fall.

"I'm so sorry, Tony. I made you a promise and I broke it. I don't know how I could ever make it up to you. Please, you gotta be okay so I can give it a try. I need you, Tony," the whispering words fell from Gibbs' lips, feeling foreign, even to himself. He looped an empty chair with his foot and sat down next to Tony's bed, waiting for the doctor he knew Ducky had gone to get.

"Mr. Gibbs?" receiving a nod of affirmation, the doctor continued, "I'm Dr. Welding and I've been monitoring Mr. DiNozzo's condition. He became very agitated at one point and we were forced to sedate him for the safety of our staff, as well as his own. When I lift him from the medication I will have to keep him restrained, I hope you can understand."

"Just do it. Please."

"Very well," the doctor called in a nurse to administer the counteracting drug after the restraints were in place and Gibbs' eyes never left Tony's face.

Gradually, and some time later, Tony's eyelids began to twitch as his head slowly rocked back and forth. Gibbs grabbed his hand and leaned in close, "Tony, open your eyes."

At Gibbs' voice, Tony's eyes eased open and recognition flew across his features. Pulling hard against the restraints, Tony's raspy voice made itself known immediately, "Gibbs! Gibbs, please, help me! They're gonna kill me, please! Please," Tony sobbed the last word, exhausted from the effort of his desperate pleas. The doctors were making gruff noises of disapproval due to the inconsistent beeping of Tony's monitors.

"Hey, hey, I'm here Tony. I'm here. Listen to me, Tony. Are you listening?" At Tony's brief nod and choked sob, anguish and fear clear in his tear-filled eyes, Gibbs continued, "I need you to take some deep breaths for me okay? If you calm down I'll make them take off the restraints, okay? Can you do that for me?"

"Uh-huh," Tony gasped out the confirmation in a stuttered, puffed breath and worked on slowing his breathing.

"Good, that's very good, Mr. DiNozzo," Dr. Welding praised with a slight nod of approval to Gibbs.

"Take them off. Take them off now, doctor," the edge in Gibbs' voice left no room for argument, but the doctor looked to Ducky for approval. At Ducky's slight nod, the nurse removed the restraints as Tony lay calmly in the bed. As soon as the last one was gone, Tony threw himself toward Gibbs and latched himself onto his shirt, practically clawing at him and burying his head in his shoulder. Gibbs caught Tony the best he could, holding on tightly and sat himself on the bed, cradling Tony's torso against his own. Tony's sobs wracked his thin frame, sending shudders through Gibbs.

"It's okay. I'm here, I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, I promise. Shh, Tony it's okay, it's okay," whispering platitudes, Gibbs leaned down, and found himself placing an uncharacteristic and gentle kiss to the top of Tony's head.

"Please don't let them kill me, p-please. Dad, don't let him hurt me, please!"

If anyone in the room had been surprised by Tony's words, no one showed it. They simply stood by monitoring Tony's vitals and developing a medical plan. After almost a half hour of attempting to calm Tony down, Ducky gently suggested a calming aid, to which Gibbs approved of with a slight nod. Once all the appropriate scans and tests had been run, once all the appropriate doctors had been updated, and once all the appropriate phone calls had been made, it was concluded that Tony should recover, however no one was quite sure in what way or how quickly.

"Must be a damn strong concussion to do all this," Gibbs mused.

"Yes, indeed, Jethro. However, we should be seeing signs of his memory returning within the day. If not, I'm afraid permanent brain damage is possible," Ducky informed, but was quick to add, "his scans look good, though, and improvement is expected."

* * *

As the day progressed, with updates to the waiting team members, Tony's memory began to clarify. Names, places, and events returned, as well as his ever-present appetite. And so Gibbs sat with Tony, conversing over red, goopy hospital jello when the questions began to arise. Hard questions that Gibbs had very few answers to; Why did you leave me? Where did you go? Who were you with? Why did you come back? After answering the best he could, they sat in silence for a few minutes until Tony voiced one last question.

"What are you going to do now, dad?"

Gibbs wanted to cry at hearing the hopeful pleading in his son's voice, but spoke with certainty himself, "I'm not leaving you again, Tony. I promise I'm here to stay. No matter what."

"So, what if I told you I was offered to lead a team in Rota?" Tony ventured, "And I'm considering taking it?"

If Gibbs tried to hide his shock, he didn't do it well, but gathered himself and prepared to speak what he knew his son needed to hear. He prepared to tell him the truth, "Tony, I don't care where you go or what you do. All I know is that wherever life may take you, the only place I ever want to be is right where you are."

END


End file.
